


Between a rock...

by columbine_and_asphodel (onlycrooks)



Series: The Innocent Bystander [11]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Devotion, Dreams, F/M, M/M, Protectiveness, Steve's subconscience is maybe more in-tune than the rest of him, Trust Issues, Unfaithfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:31:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlycrooks/pseuds/columbine_and_asphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's dreams have the tendency to get him in trouble, and if he could, he'd push them aside, right along with the jealousy and the envy and longing. He can't let them rule him, not when there's a sweet little girl and battered man to guard- which is what Steve will do, regardless of what Danny says.<br/>Or: Steve looks back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between a rock...

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, sorry about the delay. This chapter hates my guts.
> 
> In other news, I'm looking for someone who's willing to do a super basic beta job- checking tenses and making sure sentences can be understood/checking my spelling because I can never catch the mistakes and feel like a fool- for this series. If you're up for it, comment, and the first person who's willing (because that's how I roll: simple and least likely to offend) will have the _"great honor"_ /sarcasm bestowed upon him/her.  
> 

Steve wakes up nearly an hour later when Grace wriggles in her sleep, trying to find a more comfortable position, and something about the sight of her snuggled close, trusting him to keep her safe, makes his gut clench. Grace is one of the few people who's never trusted him less than fully, and even after his failure to keep Danny safe, she's still here, curled up on his lap and her head on his chest, as if there's nowhere she'd rather be.

Half afraid of waking her up, half afraid Danny will wake up, Steve tentatively runs a hand through her hair. The sleepy smile he gets in return makes his own lips twitch.

A quick glance at Danny tells Steve that his friend is still sound asleep. Worried this might be one of the last times he'll get to see him, and prepared because he knows it this time, Steve takes advantage of Danny's deep slumber and tries to commit the sight to memory. It would be easier, though, or at least less painful, if Danny's face weren't contorted in pain.

Steve has probably seen Danny sleep more times than he's seen even Cath sleep, so he already has the way Danny sleeps nearly memorized. Just as it does when Danny's awake, his face clearly shows his emotions when he's asleep, but unlike most people, it makes him look _older,_ rather than younger. The lines engraved in the soft skin of his face (something had Steve discovered when he'd grabbed Danny's face once, frustrated because Danny wouldn't look at him) are deeper than Steve remembers, as is the angle of his frown, which makes sense, though, doesn't it? They haven' seen each other in years. Steve's own face is worn, wrinkles making it their home, so it stands to reason Danny would have aged as well.

He wishes the years had been kinder to the short man, though. The angles of his face are too harsh, the line of his jaw sharp through weight loss. Perhaps when he's awake it's less so, but now, when Danny ought to be soft and comfortable, he looks tense and uhappy, as though he's dreaming of unpleasant things. It's always frustrated Steve. He's known since the beginning that when he's awake, Danny is fully cognizant of his responsibilities and duty, his mind perpetually weighing what he can and can't let slide, especially when he's with Steve, so Steve had, in the back of his mind, hoped distance would have allowed his partner not to be plagued in his sleep.

Of everyone Steve knows, Danny most deserves pleasant dreams, and it's with a familiar pang of guilt that Steve acknowledges that his actions are the root of Danny's bad dreams.

Thinking of Danny's bad dreams and looking at the blonde's somber face- which is looking directly at him because Danny won't sleep any way other than on his side, combined with the trauma to his body- Steve slips into a pensive state- courtesy of Danny, who'd forced him to watch a marathon of How To... DVDs about meditation, despite them being lead by people both men had instantly hated- and contemplates his partnership with Danny and marriage to Cath.

* * *

The dreams hadn't been with Steve at the beginning of his partnership with Danny, so he'd been frightened the first time he'd had one, his emotions reeling the first time his mind had started a dream with him dancing with Cath but ended it with him lying on his back with _Danny_ and _Danny's tongue_ moving about all over him, sucking and licking at his skin, mouthing at places Steve was particularly sensitive. Danny had tickled him, too, Steve's body wringgling in response until he'd woken with a start, his throat raw and... yes, his cock swollen and weeping- though whether that was metaphorical or physical, he hadn't considered long enough to risk knowing. He'd been angry and distant nearly all day earlier, and it had all been because of Kono, Kono and her teasing Danny about his stay in a hotel with a mystery guest. It had been news to Steve, finding out that Danny had been in a relationship, particularly one with another _man._

 _Why hadn't Danny told him? Had he thought_ Steve _would hold it against him, that he wouldn't want to be partners with Danny anymore? Why would he think that? Had someone said something to him? Had they_ done _something to him? Since when did Danny like men? He'd never mentioned it; Steve definitely wouldn't have forgotten if Danny had, especially since there'd been nothing about him that suggested he was at all inclined that way. Danny was quite vocal about his appreciation of women (Hadn't the case about thar famous photographer who'd gotten burned alive proven that?). Why wouldn't he be the same way about men? It would have been just_ _Danny being Danny, the man whose mouth can't stay shut for more than five seconds._

A small thought had made itself known, then, and refused to leave.

_Doesn't Danny trust me?_

The next case, however, had proven that thought wrong. Danny had looked at him strangely all day (undoubtedly waiting for Steve to say something to him about his "mystery guest," which Steve had had absolutely no intention of doing) but kept mercifully quiet. The moment the team had had to take cover from a hail of bullets, however, that had changed immediately.

"What the hell is the matter with you, huh? This wasn't supposed to be a violent case, Steven; it was a straightforward kidnapping. All we had to do was stay quiet, sneak up on the perps and arrest everybody. There was no reason to provoke a shoot out, damn it! I have a child, McGarrett, and I do _not_ want her to grow up without her Danno! I swear to you, if anything happens to me, I will come back and haunt you, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Hoping he could get Danny to stop yelling at him, Steve started to open his mouth, though he had no idea what he was going to say.

Happily enough, Danny's temper had saved him from his dilemma.

"Don't you dare even _think_ about trying to talk your way out of this, McGarrett! You've put us in this insane situation, so you're going to sit there on your stupid, reckless ass, and you're going to listen to everything I tell you!"

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and an eternity later, their backup from HPD had arrived and put an end to the fighting. Steve had been more relieved about escaping Danny's wrath than the end of the fighting.

He hadn't actually been that lucky, though, because as he'd made his way to the truck, he'd been greeted by the sight of Danny leaning on the driver's side door, quietly watching Steve approach.

"What's going on?" Danny'd asked, agitated.

"Nothing," Steve had replied quickly.

"Then why have you been staring at me like I've got seven eyes or something? It's just me, babe," had come the clearly worried reply. Something had seemed to occur to him then, though, and Steve's partner's whole demeanor changed. Danny's eyes had narrowed and muscles tensed, his upper body leaning forward slightly and his hands gripping his hips tightly. "Is this about what Kono brought up yesterday? Because if it is, let me tell you something, McGarrett, my private life has nothing to do with my ability to do this job. Now, if you have a problem with that-"

"No, Danny, of course I don't!"

"Then what's with the face?"

"Oh, for the love of god! I don't have a face, Danny!" He'd replied, annoyed. Every time they'd argue, Danny would claim that Steve pulled faces, which he didn't do... at leastnnot since he was eight...

"Yes, you do. You have quite a few, actually, and right now? You're making Constipated Gorilla Face."

"That's not even-"

"Stop trying to change the subject, Steven, which I know you're trying to do. You're obviously upset about something, and I want to know what it is-" Steve had tried to protest here, but in true Danny fashion, his partner had simply spoken over him, "- because if I don't know what's going on, I can't do anything for you, so please, Steve, just tell me what's going on."

What had he been supposed to do with Danny looking up at him with genuine concern written all over his face, his entire body moving from its aggressive stance to one more suited to pulling Steve into a hug?

He'd lied.

"Sorry, Danno. Guess I've been off a bit. I've just been thinking about Dad lately, and-"

Even before Danny had spoken, his face had told Steve how much he'd believed that.

"I swear to god, Steve, I'm trying to help you here, but I can't do anything if you keep lying to me!"

"I'm not lying, Danny!"

"Yes, you are, and it's obviously got something to do with me. I don't think you were telling the truth earlier. You're bothered that I like men, aren't you?" With no reply forthcoming, Danny had stepped closer, his body nearly pressed against Steve's, and, with a gleam in his eye, poked Steve in the chest.

Always with the poking, Steve had thought, even as Danny had come to a stop, a scant inch away. Steve had hated being poked since he could remember, which Danny had known, just as he'd known that Steve wouldn't like him getting so close. It hadn't been an accident or anger that had moved Danny into his space, no doubt about it. His lips had quirked, after all, a dead giveaway he'd known he'd done something to get under Steve's skin. Danny had decided to push, doing something he'd known would at least get a rise from Steve, and it had worked.

"Be honest with me, Steven. You don't like that I like guys, do you?" Danny'd whispered, voice falsely steady.

"Of course it's bothering me!" Steve had exploded, grabbing the finger still poking him in the chest. "Why didn't you tell me, Danny? This is important! I thought you trusted me!" He'd paused then, letting the daunting question make its way to his mouth. "Don't you trust me?"

" _Don't I trust you_? What kind of question is that? Do I trust you, indeed. Of course I trust you, you maniac! I trust you with my life every day, damn it. Christ, Steve, I trust you with my daughter. You think I'd let just anyone meet Grace? Do you think that I would have encouraged her to feel safe with you if I'd thought you were untrustworthy? Dammit, Steve, she calls you _Uncle Steve_ and loves you like it, too. Did you forget about the Sarin? When I got sick, it was _you_ who brought her to me. She was in that gigantic truck you drive, and I didn't even _try_ to give you the ten minute lecture about how to drive with her in the car then, and I didn't bother later. Do you know why that is, you thoughtless, Neolithic caveman? Because I know you'd never hurt her! For fuck's sake, Steve..." Danny'd shaken his head, then, suddenly looking decades older than his actual age. "It wasn't that I didn't trust you. It was more... more that I kept quiet because it's my private life, something that's been getting smaller and smaller lately. The trust issues are yours, babe..."

Throughout his impassioned, nearly shouted speech, Danny had gotten closer still, his free arm braced against Steve's chest from elbow to palm to the tips of his fingers, and he'd slowly clenched his fist in the material over Steve's heart, the hand in Steve's gesturing as best it could, trying to say more than what Danny's lips had been able.

His words finally out, finished by that lame attempt at humor, Danny had lost the strength to continue being upset. Too tired to do much else, he'd let his head list forward until it had come to lean against Steve, too.

Slightly discomfited by the intimacy of the moment, both emotional and physical- how open his partner had become, how close Danny had wound up standing and the gap between their heights more obvious than usual, last night's dream playing in slow motion and Steve's body reacting to the memory- Steve had shifted his weight, trying to think of how to respond. These sorts of things had never been his strong suit.

In the end, he'd decided that just going for it- whatever "it" was- had been the way to go, so he'd reached around Danny, letting go of his hand and pulling him close so Steve could wrap his arms around his short partner in a tighter hug than he usually liked to give. Danny's arms had wrapped around him quicklky and returned the pressure, his face pressed into one of Steve's pecs.

Deciding to complete the uncomfortable situation, Steve had summoned up his courage and begun to apologize.

"Sorry, Danny. I-"

"No need to apologize, babe," Danny'd said, cutting him off. "I know how your crazy mind works, and I should've remembered how much you dislike not knowing things about people."

Danny had held onto him for a few moments longer, then ended the hug, undoubtedly sensing Steve's continuing discomfort, for which Steve had been thankful, though not so much when he'd discovered that Danny had pickpocketed his keys, "Just in case you'd tried to flee, babe."

He'd retrieved them from Danny after a small, impromptu game of keep away, which both had known Steve would win. A part of him had wondered, though, if he should feel odd, half-groping Danny like that, but it had been quickly told off by the much larger part of him that had cared more that Danny trusted him. If Steve suddenly stopped touching him or treated him differently because he knew that Danny had... homoerotic tendencies, he would break Danny's trust, so he'd gone after the keys with just as much enthusiasm and touching as he had when he hadn't known.

The ride home had been quiet, just him in the truck, because Danny had come to work in the Camaro, and Steve had spent it contemplating the exchange. Looking back, it hadn't been as odd as he'd thought, holding his friend. Danny had fit against him surprisingly well, his firm body not welcome like Steve had thought. It had been nice, even pleasant, having Danny so close, and the longer he'd driven, the more Steve had found himself pushing down the wave of jealousy that had been rising since he'd first heard about Danny's relationship. Steve had never liked sharing people, not his mom or dad, nor the few good friends he'd made, and Danny had certainly become the best friend Steve had ever had.

...which would make his jealousy understandable, wouldn't it?

* * *

During their time as partners, the dreams had come relatively few times and never again with Danny doing something quite so intimate. Steve had eventually discovered that the triggers for them- well, a few of the triggers, at least- involved threats to Danny's life and/or the two of them getting particularly close, which happened to be a habit of Danny's: pushing himself into other people's space, Steve's in particular.

When they _had_ come, they'd been quite sweet, actually: slightly altered memories Danny hugging him, Steve ruffling his partner's hair or teasing him about his clothing and smiling as Danny puffed himself up, the two of them sitting on the couch while a game played and they alternately cheered and booed, post-case beers... It had been little things, actions with roots in reality but slurred slightly.

He'd always chalked them up to his mind getting confused or wanting comfort in someone familiar, and who was more comforting or familiar than Danny? The dreams had then been labeled a disconcerting mix-up and  _not a big deal_. Despite the small clench in his gut every time he'd said that- out loud to the ceiling or silently to his head- Steve had steadfastly refused to examine things further.

That had changed, though, on his honeymoon.

* * *

Neither Steve nor Cath had been a virgin for a long time, and they'd certainly slept together enough to be familiar with what they liked and what they wouldn't do. Admittedly, the Do Not Do List had grown quite long and been almost all Cath's, but they hadn't been at a loss for things to do and had plenty of passion to make the sex good.

The problem had happened on the first night of their honeymoon. He'd said or done something earlier that had gotten Cath going, and she'd nearly hauled him all the way from the tiny, countryside store they'd been examining to the small cabin they'd rented.

By the time they'd stumbled into the bedroom, Steve had lost everything but his undershirt, Cath clawing at the hook-and-eyes of her long line bra. It had been one of those frantic, skin-crawling, lust-filled _fucks_ that had filled the beginning of their marriage, the rough and tumble, occasionally painful, pushing and shoving that had always driven Cath crazy and heightened his own libido.

Just as he'd been racing toward his finish, Cath's own rush of lust sated, the body beneath him had, for few seconds, shimmered, and Cath had been replaced by a body distinctly belonging to a man. The legs had become shorter, more muscular and covered in short, soft hair; the chest flat, again splattered with hair; the arms wrapped tightly around Steve thicker and stronger, leading to wider, heavier shoulders; the softly muscular stomach he'd always rubbed happily, suddenly harder, more defined, with a thick trail of hair leading down, down to what had obviously had to be Danny's hard cock, pressed against Steve's naval. There'd been a happy smile on Danny's face, too, as Steve had thrust into his body.

The moment had passed within seconds, but it had been enough to rip Steve's orgasm from him, as well as haunt him for the rest of his marriage. It had felt as if he'd been unfaithful, had somehow cheated on Cath without meaning to- without _wanting_ to- but he'd never told her.

Steve had decided, after a while, that that moment would have to be his deepest secret- one he would guard more jealously than Operation: Strawberry Fields, even.

* * *

That time hadn't been an isolated incident, though; in the end, it became one of the last straws to break the back of his marriage camel's back- not that he or Cath had known it at the time.

The first night they'd had sex after Danny had resigned from Five-0, Steve had, like that day during their honeymoon, been about to finish when he'd suddenly found himself leaning over Danny's body rather than Cath's- his cock nestled in the hollow between Danny's cock and leg, rather than buried inside his wife- and instead of the still-hurt expression Cath had been wearing earlier, Danny's face had been completely enraptured, the sight of it warm and comforting in Steve's gut. That time, the image had stayed for more than a couple of seconds; it had stayed long enough for Danny to reach out, pull Steve flush against him and place a kiss to Steve's temple before putting a hand on the taller man's face and running it down his cheek, Danny's own face soft and fond, the way he'd always looked at Grace.

Steve had been woken up from his few seconds post-coital bliss by something striking his face.

Unprepared for pain, all he'd been able to do was look across the bed at his wife, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed deeply. Cath and he had play fought before, neither having a problem with a bit of competition to get each other a bit worked up, but she'd never been a hitter, only a shover and a hip-checker, so the slap to his face had come as not only a shock, but a betrayal.

"What was that for?" he'd asked, hurt.

"What was it for? You just said some other woman's name in bed, you jackass!" Cath had spat back, getting up to leave and taking the sheet with her. "I can't believe you, Steve! I mean, we've been going through a rough patch after Danny left, but-"

"Cath, please wait," he'd called, getting up and going to her, slightly uncomfortable with the nighttime chill blowing cold across his skin, each droplet of sweat feeling like an ice cube. "I don't know what's going on. I- I don't remember saying _anyone's_ name, let alone the name of some other woman."

His wife hadn't believed him, had doubted his sincerity, and watching her size him up, weighing whether or not he was telling the truth had cut him deeply.

After time had kept passing with no other input from Cath, Steve had shaken his head and walked back to bed. He'd just started to fiddle with his boxers so they'd stop riding up when his wife had finally responded.

"Annie," she'd said simply.

Steve hadn't followed Cath's train of thought and told her so.

"That's the name you said, the name you called when you were inside _me_ , supposedly thinking about _me_ , pleasuring _me_. Will you at least come clean and tell me who she is, or where you met, what you two've done together that's made me worthless?"

Panic cold in his belly, Steve had turned back to her, no trace of useful thought to be found.

* * *

Even years later, Steve hadn't figured out what he'd told Cath that night to placate his wife's fury; all that had mattered at the time had been her understanding that he hadn't been calling for 'Annie.' She hadn't had to worry, because he hadn't been, and never would be, unfaithful to her, a not-quite lie she'd eventually accepted, climbing into the bed next to him- near enough to hare sheat but not enough to touch.

His mind hadn't let him forget what had happened, though. It had found an image it liked, and it had begun to taunt him with it. Without Cath home and Steve lacking the strength to go out and flirt mindlessly for meaningless sex (He'd been getting too old even then, more interested in a solid relationship and a family than excitement, however much he'd still loved it), his mind had deemed it an appropriate time to start flashing images of Danny all the time, no matter how badly timed. It would be quiet for a time only to send Steve into a mental overload with images of Danny: Danny surfing, Danny soaking wet and dragging his board behind him like a child with a blanket, Danny when he'd come in extra early and still looked ready to drop, Danny's pants and the way they'd always been just this side of inappropriately tight, his definitely too-small shirts and ability to wear them without all the buttons popping off. Sometimes, though, it would indulge him and bring forward his favorite image of Danny: lying on Steve's bed, spread-eagled and completely naked, one of his bright smiles sneaking across his face.

He'd liked that one in particular for numerous reasons, not all of them revolving around the satisfied, almost peaceful set of Danny's warm features. The feelings Steve had gotten when looking at Danny, splayed out and content, hadn't all been carnal. He hadn't feel a rush of pure lust, though lust had certainly been mixed in there. What had almost bowled him over had been the sense of being home, the openness of Danny's arms inviting a wave of desire to flop down next to him and fall asleep. In all honesty, though- which something one of the DVDs had said was vital- even those feelings hadn't been completely pure, but tinged with jealousy. Steve had wanted that smile to be for _him,_ something only _he_ could get from Danny.

Objectively, in his state of state of acceptance, Steve had recognized that he'd fallen for Danny. He had even grown hopeful that he'd be able to convince Danny of it. Maybe he'd even be able to find a way to make the feeling mutual?

When not deep in meditation, however, he hadn't been able to think that way. He'd shoved the thoughts down, had buried them far away in the recesses of his memory. He'd donned his mask of macho heterosexuality, stopped meditating and grown steadily more and more unhappy.

No one can wear a mask for very long, though, and finding Danny in the brothel had dredged up the thoughts he'd tried so hard to forget. Witnessing him being tortured and being forced to watch, unable to get free and save him, had solidified the feelings into something that hadn't let itself be shoved aside and had begun to demand that Steve _listen_ to it. The time for being McGarrett, straight man, had passed, and the time to hunker down and be honest had arrived.

Danny had come to be his greatest friend, someone with whom he'd trust his life without hesitation. At some point, however, that had stopped being enough for Steve, and what he'd really come to want was Danny beside him, with a ring and papers, a joint name if Danny'd agree, Grace as a daughter and the knowledge that he had Danny's complete trust. He'd come to want to be able to bury his face against him as he told him all the things he hadn't been able to tell even Cath, all the thoughts he'd thought no one could ever be told but ones Danny would be able to understand.

Above all that, though, Steve had realized he had to tell Danny or he'd lose him.

* * *

Brought back to the hospital by the familiar noises of Danny sleepily adjusting his position, Steve looks down at Grace and wonders how this will end.

**Author's Note:**

> Quotation of the chappie: "No one can wear a mask for very long."  
> -Seneca


End file.
